


White Leaf Fall

by Redcristal



Series: Sandcastles and Stars [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Fairy Tail, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 21:43:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7987243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redcristal/pseuds/Redcristal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life of Drusilla. As a human, then as a vampire and then as creature with a soul and just what is a soul?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Life at Hornby's

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeepBlueJoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeepBlueJoy/gifts).



Challenge 4754: How Drusilla gets her soul and how it changes things - any non BTVS/Angel pairing - male or female

Disclaimer: I own nothing. BtVS is owned by Joss. Stargate: SG-1 is own by Brad Wright and Jonathan Glassner.

Summary: The life of Drusilla. As a human, then as a vampire and then as creature with a soul and just what is a soul?

AN: Stargate: SG-1 cross will came in to play later. Now while White leaf fall, is stand alone Drusilla centric fan-fiction, it's placed in the same verse as Buffy the champion of Ankhseram

Life at Hornby's

 

1860, East End of London

It was a dreary day, misty; that was not unusual for Great Britain's weather in the fall but that was not the reason Doctor Hornby's youngest daughter was apprehensive about going out with her parents and two older sisters. The dreary weather was not the reason for her feeling of foreboding that griped her heart. It was fear, but the reason for that feeling was allusive as a fleeting dream.

"Child, don't dawdle!" came the voice of Mrs. Watson, who was the household cook, but before that she was the nanny of all three Hornby sisters. She was their mother really. The woman, Lady Honoria, whom had given birth to them had married below her station in life. Her family the Flemings were members of peerage, and Lady Honoria had eloped at Gretna Green to wed Doctor Hornby. She regretted it by the time Hornby's youngest was born.

The youngest daughter was named Drusilla, and she was a strange child from the moment of her birth. Unlike her older sisters she didn't cry much, only when she needed a linen change.

Otherwise she was just looking and reaching for things that were not there. But despite her oddness, Mrs. Watson loved the little poppet the moment she looked into the infant's dark eyes. Drusilla was her favourite charge, but that didn't mean that she would go easy on her; oh no, even special children needed structure, discipline, and love.

"Yes, Mrs. Watson. I only need to put my bonnet on. Are Danielle and Doreen already with our patents?"

"Yes, and they're all waiting for you." Then the round woman stepped closer observing the raven haired, pale fifteen year old standing in front of the mirror, watching her reflection with the most peculiar expression.

"What is the matter child?" she asked; the young girl was always dreaming of something and Mr. Hornby, the good doctor, disregarded it as nonsense of flights of fancies at best; his lady wife however, took a more judgemental note and commanded her daughter to pay it no mind if she felt charitable. But in the moments of pique or when she felt malcontent, Lady Honoria called Drusilla cursed and her knowing things a affront to God.

"Nothing, Mrs. Watson, I was just having a dream." She frowned at her reflection, and reaching for the pale yellow and black striped ribbons and tying them together, securing her yellow bonnet. "No it was a night terror. I was dancing among mirrors, and there were many voices that were screaming, but worst of all there was no reflection of me anywhere."

"That's' terrible, but its no sense to dwell on it," she soothed Dr. Hornby's youngest. "Now pinch those white cheeks to get more colour in them; you are white as snow."

Obeying her former nanny, she did just that and with a swish of the yellow Taft dress, she left her room and went down the flight of stairs that connected the sleeping rooms of her, her two sisters, and their parents bedroom. She meet with her family, while Mrs. Watson returned to the kitchen where the scullery maid Mary was already waiting so that they had a meal ready when the family returned from their outing. Miss Delenway, the governess, had a day off.

Her father, Dr. Samuel Hornby, was a highly respected middle aged man valued by his patients and loved by his lady wife and three daughters. He was a bit on the short side, but he was a lean man with dark hair that was already turning silver at the temples. The family butler, Mr. Watson, was holding his hat, gloves, and walking stick. Besides him stood his wife, who was dressed in her finest dark red dress with black lace and a red and black bonnet on her curly blonde hair. She was looking as the chambermaid was readjusting her two oldest daughters' bonnets and their dresses.

Twenty one year old Danielle Hornby was dressed in her steel grey gown with pink and yellow trim on her sleeves and a pink bonnet resting on her black hair. She was courted by the merchant's son, Mr. Charles Brown, who was also a nephew of Father Brown, the priest whose mass her whole family attended regularly.

Doreen shared her two years older sister's hair colouring, but unlike her younger and older sister, she inherited their father's green eye colour and was wearing her blue gown with white trim and plum coloured bonnet. She hasn't found her beau yet.

And then there was Drusilla, an awkward pale, petite fifteen year old girl with curly black hair, big blue grey eyes, and night terrors that woke her screaming at night.

And so they walked the streets of London, greeting acquaintances, when …

Drusilla Hornby, walking behind her older sisters, slowly turned as she felt another wave of dread creeping up on her. She turned around when her father was talking to one of his patients, while her mother stayed at his side demurely.

Watching the passing carriage and pedestrians, her dark blue eyes rested on a well dressed couple leaning on the corner. For a fleeting moment she caught their gazes and her fear turned into the determination to move. Whirling around, she pushed at her older sisters' waists steering them away. And for a moment her fear lessened, but it never went away.

***Angel&Darla – at the same time***

A tall dark haired man was casually leaning on the corner of the ally overlooking the busy street of East End London. People nodded at him respectfully for he was decked out in a well tailored suit, which proclaimed him to be a man of means.

Suddenly he was joined by the beautiful fair haired lady, that for many she appeared as a member of peerage. Flashing a white toothed smile at the woman, the man tilted his head in her direction.

"I thought we were meeting in the Square," he asked, smirking down at her.

"I ran into Lord Nichols," said the blonde lady in a frilly pink dress and in a breathy voice, that promised everything and nothing. "Horrid little man, he was propositioning a streetwalker and dickering over the price," her voice hardened, becoming coloured in anger at the man who wanted to hustle the poor streetwalker. "Can you imagine? I told him I'd do him for nothing," she finished, her painted lips pulling into a cruel smile, while her blue eyes were cold as ice.

The man's smile widened, "You're very charitable."

"I so loathe cheap royalty," she groused, and ran her hand over her dress, smoothing the wrinkles on the silky fabric.

The man meanwhile snuck an arm around the woman's waist, pulling her close. And smirking at the sight of the two dead bodies in the back ally, those sure won't be discovered for a while.

"They all taste the same to me," he mummers into her ear.

She hums in pleasure, "My dear boy does have the touch." She smiles up at him, mischievously.

He frowns, what does his sire …

"Darla?"

"Yes?"

His crafty sire is definitely planning something, knowing that she won't be imminently upfront, but then again Angelus relishes the challenge.

"Why'd you kill the streetwalker?" he asks inviting Darla to say more, to give him a hint of the fun to come.

"Oh," she drawls running her hand up and down her companion's front, "I just liked her. Guess what's next?"

"What is it?"

"Surprise. You have to guess."

Angelus looks up and down the street, spotting something interesting, inhaling deeply, and testing the blood of the family of five. He smirks; his Darla found a bounty indeed.

"The three daughters, all virgins."

"Close." She takes a step forward to have a better view at her gift to her sweet dear boy. Her Angelus, he was already building a reputation in the Order of Aurelius circle.

"The one in the middle has something delicate and unique." He frowned concentrating, still in the process of honing his senses. "Did you find me a Saint?"

Darla smiles, her child is improving, he is still young though and still vulnerable to hunters. This is why she decided to accompany him after they had met with Master Nest. Never had she seen a demon with such potential for greatness as Angelus.

"Better than that. She has the sight."

Angelus steps forward observing the girl that just turned and watched the crowd; for a moment her gaze meet his and held as he stalked toward her. "Visions. She sees the future. She is pure innocence, yet she sees what's comin'; she knows what I'm gonna do to her. I'll really have to come up to snuff for this one."

He is stopped by a white hand on his forearm. "Down boy, let the plum ripen."

Angelus wrapped an arm around Darla's waist holding her close. "You always come up with something new."

"Keeps me young," she answered with a smile.

"Well Darla, I'm feeling a bit famished …."

***

 

1861, London Hornby's residence

 

She can not un-see the golden-blond lady and that tall man either, in fine clothing too, the likes she saw only nobles wear. He had a face of an angel, but she could only see a black sky and worms reflected at her. And it terrified her, the scenes she saw at night that she woke up screaming to, her throat raw and drenched in sweat and breathing hard.

She didn't like the implication of such dreams. What was worst however was after her fifteenth birthday in February, the dreams were no longer vague and at night, they came to her by day and at the most inconvenient times. She dreaded receiving them when in company of her mother and with her sister Doreen's engagement and pending weeding; she spent a lot of time with her mother and sisters.

As of right now, they are sitting in her uncle's, her mother's brother who is a baronet, carriage that they had borrowed. Her mummy is quietly murmuring a song; she is fond of 'The lamb caught in the blackberry patch.' Drusilla and her two sisters sit quietly in the driving carriage.  
Arriving at her uncle's town-house in Mayfair, they exited, helped by a butler, who came out of the lovely Victorian house.

"Lady Honoria," the butler bowed, over her mother's hand. Then he turned to the now lined up three Hornby sisters. "Miss Hornby," he bowed over Drusilla's eldest sister's hand. Then repeated the procedure over Doreen's and Drusilla's hands.

"You are expected."

"Very well, thank you, Bowstrings," her mother said to the butler then breezed past him to the dawning room, where her elder brother's wife, the baroness, and her daughter Anne waited.

"Hello, Honoria," The baroness greeted her sister in law, when she sailed into the room, while she was reading a book of poetry. Anne, the nine year old daughter of the house, looked up from her dollhouse, where she played tea party with her porcelain dolls.

"Aunt Honoria, did you bring me pomegranates, did you? Oh please I love them so much!"

"Anne, don't be rude, dear," her mother admonished her. At the time the three sisters entered the room and again lined up, as instructed beforehand by their mother, from the eldest to the youngest.

"Go say hello, to your cousins, dear Anne," Honoria said, and lightly steered the little girl toward her three daughters. "And I'm sure you'll have your pomegranates by dinner time, for dessert."

When Anne ran to her cousins, the baroness smiled mischievously to her sister-in-law. "It appears that my daughter inherited your side of the family trait."

Honoria smiled, "Yes, she is truly endowed with a lively character."

"That's not what I had in mind Honoria; Anne, like you, has a taste for eating her kind of exotic fruit raw. For you, it is lemons." She ignored Honoria's sigh that 'she likes how lemons make her mouth tingle.' "For my daughter, it's pomegranates."

***Time skip***

Life goes on and so months pass, it is the next year, and Hornby's family was preparing for a wedding that will take place in late January between Danielle Hornby and Mr. Charles Brown Jr.  
Danielle was standing on the pedestal in front of the seamstress who was holding a bunch of pins and thread. "So Dru, you still don't have a suitor?"

"Don't think I'll ever have one." Danielle didn't miss her little sister's statement for what it was.

"Are you certain that is what you want?" The question really, 'is that what you saw in your vision?'

"I'm afraid that it is so," came Drusilla's certain replay. "But enough about me, Danny, you are trying on your wedding dress. This was supposed to be your day. And as your maid of honor and your little sister, I must ensure it is so."

"Oh, but Dora should be here as well?" Then Danielle frowned, "Where is she?"

"Ah, just meeting for the first time with the love of her life."

"What?!" Danielle screamed "Oh my God? Do mother and father know?"

"Calm down, you'll mess with the dress."

"Oh, I apologize for the interruption of your work, Madame St.Claire," Danielle apologized to the seamstress, who skilfully pinned the shiny ribbon of ivory silk and Venetian lace to the bodice of her wedding dress.

"No need to, Mademoiselle Hornby. I have your dress well in hand."

To be continued.


	2. Sisters and confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drusilla's life with her family.

***6 months later***

 

There was a big wedding to be had, also a celebration for the engagement of Hornby's middle daughter Doreen to Roland Warren. Drusilla however voiced her wish to join the Church religious order of Saint Catherine of the Wheel. Drusilla was enchanted and drawn to that saint patron of unmarried girls, apologists, potters and spinners, dying people, libraries, merchants, and spinsters.

Her parents agreed to their youngest wish to take the religious vocation and so Drusilla Hornby entered her trial period of six months. And when abbess deems her ready, she'll join the Sisters of Mercy for good.

But before that there was a wedding to be had and an engagement party that she'll attend.

"Drusilla!" Doreen called to her younger sister "Can you come up to help me?"

"Doreen, a lady doesn't shout," Honoria chided her child. "And do be ready; Mr. Langford will be here any moment."

"We'll be done soon mother," called Doreen then she turned to her sister, who just entered, carrying a neatly embroidered silk shawl. "Isn't this exciting? Mr. Langford is one of the leading minds in the Archaeology department and is being sent to America to conduct an archaeological excavation there."

"Yes, yes." Drusilla nodded at her enthusiastic older sister. "As you said many times and it appears that Mr. Warren's enthusiasm for archaeology extended to you as well."

"Why yes, I find the cultures of long past so very romantic," breathed Doreen, her eyes unfocused and her mind in a dream world, imagining castles, ghosts, and brave heroes rescuing princesses that were kidnapped by evil dragons. And sure enough, Drusilla mused, Doreen managed to dig up some romance novels from somewhere, novels that if their mother knew she'd had, would forbid her daughters to read them.

Mommy was already angry at her, because she had a terrible fright in the middle of the street early this morning. But Drusilla could not help what she saw; she saw two lives end in the mine today and many more were injured. And she was dreading it … she didn't know when it would happen exactly, but…

"Welcome to our home, Mr. Langford."

 

***

 

The next day Drusilla was sitting in Church on a bench waiting for her turn in the confessional and praying to God and the Holy Mother of Jesus. What she saw yesterday became truth today. A man came to her father, requesting for medical aid for there was an explosion and cave in at the mine.

Drusilla, distraught, sought consonance in the church. Standing up from her bench she stepped up to the cross where the Holy Son was suspended and prayed for guidance. Noticing that the dark red curtain of the confessional was pushed aside and the confessional itself empty, she stepped in and drew the curtain over the entrance, kneeling, she made the sign of the cross and…

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been two days since my last confession," she said; there was silence and some sort of movement and a muffled thud.

"Father?" she asked, fearing for the man, that and an uneasy feeling sprang to her mind. She was not in danger was she? What danger could a man of cloth pose to her in this Holy place?

"That's not very long," comes a male voice from the priest. He must be new, Drusilla decided; Father Brown didn't have an Irish accent.

"Oh, Father, I'm so very afraid," she said, faintly trembling, the fear overshadowing any feeling she currently had about this bodiless voice in the dark part of the confessional.

"The Lord is very forgiving. Tell me your sins."

"I had," here she hesitated. Fear of her seeing death. Fearing that it is herself that causes the deaths she sees, at conflict with a feeling of unease and danger, she feels coming from the priest she is confessing too, the sudden urge to be as far away from him as it is possible.

"I've been seeing again, Father. Yesterday, the men were going to work in the mine," she started haltingly, omitting for some reason the other details about her whereabouts, something she didn't do when confessing to Father Brown.

"I had a terrible fright. My stomach was all tied up, and I saw this horrible crash. My mummy said to keep my peace that it didn't mean anything. But this morning, they had a cave-in, two men died and many more were wounded." She didn't tell him that her father was called on for his medical aid.

"Go on," the priest's voice came at her, making her start anew; why was she feeling so frightful?

"My mommy says," she halted for a bit. Drusilla knew that her mother was not very understanding of her seeing, but Mrs. Watson was her staunch supporter and always had a hot chocolate ready for her after she had one of her night terrors, and Mrs. Watson was always ready to go through them with her.

"I'm cursed, that my seeing things is an affront to the Lord, because only He's supposed to see things before they happen and be everywhere at once."

Her mother told her this once and only once. And besides she had a terrible head pain, and Drusilla thought abashed, she probably didn't help with her screaming and crying at the aftermath of her seeing a giant metal ring and dog faced people spilling out of the water’s surface of the ring.

"But I do not mean to Father." She sobbed her mind in turmoil at the stay to confess the truth, all truth and nothing else, but a part of her that whispered of stars and wanted to devote her spirit and body to the holy carouse was urging her to stand up and escape to the sunshine outside the church.

She did not understand the contradiction of her thoughts.

"I try to be pure in his sight," she sobs out with increasing distress. "I don't want to be an evil thing." As she sometimes sees the evil thing, a soulless thing, dancing and laughing, her hair and dress whipping about among the mirrors without a reflection on their surfaces.

"Oh, hush, child. The Lord has a plan for all creatures. Even a Devil child like you."

What kind of a priest would say that? What kind of man of the cloth would not try to save her soul?

"The Devil?"

The Devil himself in the form of a priest, who was sitting in the dark of the confessor? Was she in danger of losing to Lucifer? Was this why her insights screamed just now to flee, but not obviously, for the predator is fond of chasing. Gathering her courage and grasping the rosary in her palms, she sent a prayer to the Holy Mother for protection. She sent a prayer to Saint Catherine of the Wheel, her patron saint in helping her retreat from this danger in the form of a false priest.

And also a prayer for safety for the soul of Father Brown, since the same seeing was showing her that he was no longer part of the material world.

"Yes!" exclaimed false priest. "You are a spawn of Satan. All the Hail Mary's in the world aren't going to help. The Lord will use you and smite you down. He's like that."

"What can I do?"

What can I do to get away, I must get away. Away. Away, she thought, repeating like a mantra. She must get away from the dark, to the safe heaven of the sun outside.

"Fulfil his plan, child. Be evil. Just give in," he said, and she could hear joy in his words, those words that carried poison and false promise. She knew that she was not evil, and besides Father Brown often said that she was always a pious little girl, that had grown into a beautiful spiritual soul, and he was honoured that such a soul chose to serve God.

"No!" Still she was very frightened of this devil in the confessional. "I want to be good; I want to be pure."

"We all do at first. The world doesn't work that way."

"Father…I beg of you…please … please help me." She prayed to God out loud, but in her mind she added a prayer for God to strike down this evil creature purges the devil and restore the lost soul.

"Aa, very well, child. Ten Our Fathers and an Act of Contrition. Does that sound good?"

Drusilla nearly sagged in relief. "Yes, yes Father. Thank you."

"The pleasure is always mine. And my child …"

"Yes?"

"God is watching you."

"God is always watching," she replied, and started pulling away the curtain to exit the confessional and the building all together.

To be continued...


End file.
